Silence and Sound
by proflig8
Summary: Wrex and Commander Shepard are two friends that will never be truly separated. Two-shot!
1. Silence

"Go!"

Well, I knew an order when I heard one. But that don't mean I had to follow it, right? Of course I would—but only because it's her saying it.

That high-pitched, frenzied command sounded so urgent and different than her normal hoarse and rough voice.

Rough yet smooth; it was odd, really, because she never faltered once in her speech. There was that one time she accidentally waltzed into the dark territory of the genophage conversation, claiming that it somehow had some sort of relationship similarity with humans. Hah, good one. I had presumed it a joke … it wasn't. That's when she grew quiet and cleared her throat. After that, I suspected she would just drop it. Wasn't the case—she refused to let it go. She was interested.

And now she was worried. We all saw that piece of hell-ship plummeting towards the Citadel Tower. I'd blame it on the damned pilot, but it would be futile. It was imminent that he had no choice but to take that final shot. So what if we died? As long as Sovereign was gone.

She stood, feet planted firmly, arms at her sides, just … _waiting_. I've heard jokes about her being 'Space Jesus', what with her name being Shepard and the fact that she had the power of a fucking Goddess—_waiting._ Granted, she didn't have to wait long, but—she _took_ it. Damn woman could take just about anything, I'd gather. But that … that was a large piece of debris.

Krogan had similarities; there were very few differences. The one thing that I did differently was avoid playing the hero. We all knew that was Shepard's job. Even Alenko knew, and he was practically in love with the woman. Not that anybody could blame him.

(Sometimes I laughed at her tough-willed oblivion. Everyone thought that sort of 'what, he likes me?' is supposed to be cute. It isn't when Shepard does it—it's just plain funny.)

So I didn't run up to save her. Doing that would mean disobeying orders, getting another good fighter killed (this ain't my ego, it's the damn truth), and disrespecting Shepard before she died.

Luckily, I didn't have to grab Alenko. He probably was running through the same thoughts as I was, regardless of how ridiculous that would have sounded to another krogan.

I didn't see it, but I heard shattering glass. I didn't have to turn around to know that she was still there. Metallic clattering and thumping booms then filled the room; we were still hit. A groan surfaced out of me, but that's all Sovereign would get from this krogan. It felt like the tower itself was dropped right on top of me and Alenko's backs, but we weren't dead. Wounded, but not dead. Delayed, but not dead.

Silence.

What about Shepard?

It'd be foolish to even _hope_ that she'd survive. I wasn't some softhearted guy that believed willpower would save somebody's ass. She received the worst part of the debris; dodging was inevitable.

I would have been chastising myself for blacking out, but the pain was a mite distracting.

Why would I lie about being hurt? That way I don't get fixed and make it worse? Humans did this a lot; I just don't understand sometimes. Pride is a touchy thing for man, so _keep_ it by staying tip-top shape. That wasn't the time for philosophy, however. It looked like Alenko was stirring as well.

We did not move. We lay there, occasionally passing glances.

"Do … do you think-"

"No," I cut off.

He didn't say more. His sullen expression was genuine; the hatred for Sovereign pure.

Looking at him didn't help my mood. As much as I told myself that I did the right thing by obeying, I silently started to analyze the would-be situation. Maybe, if I had been fast enough, I could have pushed ourselves out of the impact radius and …

No, that was hopeless.

Damn, it wasn't my fault, but I was getting that sickly feeling. Why did the _one _human that I actually _respected—_hell, even _liked _(we didn't just have talks; she broke out of her shell exterior to play poker, spar, and all that crap)_—_have to die? I'd go on about how that wasn't fair, but fairness never existed in the world. Now wouldn't be the time to start.

We must have blacked out for a long while, because the buzzing of the broken lights faded away, the drops of the water fountain were slowly decreasing, and only the beeping of emergency signals stood out. We could hear the faint echo of a search party in the midst.

Good, I thought. If I had been in better shape, I could have lifted up this thing crushing us. There were just so many layers. Couldn't help but feel a little bad for Alenko, too. Humans were soft (I was begrudgingly upset that Shepard wasn't the only exception anymore), and he was probably hurting the most out of both of us.

Through the cracks, the bright light of an omni-tool hit my retinas and increased the pain of the forming-migraine. Alenko had these all the time, didn't he? Probably didn't make it any less unbearable, though.

A shard of tin was lifted up, revealing a young man in Alliance-wear. Eyes flooding with relief, he turned around and called, "Captain Anderson, we found them! Over here!"

There were two other pairs of footsteps; the first was another part of the search party, the other being Captain Anderson. The older man gently pushed the kid away and knelt down. I had enough strength to lift my head up slightly to take a look at him, but I soon felt more and more pieces being lifted off of me. Alenko and I watched the duo give them air.

I would have shared thanks, but Captain Anderson was already trying his best at the comfort game.

"Take it easy … it's over. You're safe now."

Alenko did not look affected by those words whatsoever. It's not over, we both knew that. We heard what Vigil said, but they didn't. Of course they wouldn't know. Even if they did, it'd be hard to get it through their thick, human skulls.

Then came the expected.

The captain was at my side, prodding already. "Where's the commander? Where's Shepard?"

Argh, lay off. I choked back words and kept my pain—and so help me—_remorse_ under the wounded skin of mine. Anderson didn't shift his worried visage to anything else, though, and I knew I was doing a bad job at looking unfazed.

Screw it.

I let my head fall first, and then I jerked it towards Sovereign's arm. Ain't it obvious?

He blinked as he raised his head, realization dawning. His face looked as torn as mine and Alenko's. Dammit, let's just go _home_, I wanted to grunt. Strangely, by home, I meant the _Normandy_. Odd how that worked.

One of the Alliance boys helped Alenko up and was steering him away. He did the worst thing he could do: spare a glance back at the place where Shepard's body lie. We couldn't see where she was, obviously, but I don't think either of us would want to.

Anderson's hand was on my back, just to keep me steady (I didn't know whether to feel resent or gratitude), but he hesitated at the sound of an outstanding clatter.

Something could have fallen, sure, but that didn't stop anybody's heart from fluttering in hope.

Through holes in the giant pile, something was moving.

I didn't care anymore that I was letting myself get worked up. Damn, I didn't care if the chance of that being Shepard was unlikely … there was a higher chance of that being Saren, waking up from the dead again—despite the fact I watched his body disintegrate into the air.

Footsteps.

Well … there she was.

She always did have a knack for pulling off the impossible.

_Tough broad_, ran through my mind, but I didn't have the heart to utter it out loud. Hair frazzled and knotted, a few scars joining her other previous ones, lips parted, shoulder dislocated, bruised, dirty, limping—but most importantly, _smiling_. I could go through hours of being crushed just to see a satisfied, purely accomplished, _glad-that-you-guys-are-okay_ smile such as that again. It made everybody else in the room smile too. Including me.

Kaidan exchanged looks from me, to Shepard, to Anderson, to Shepard again; he was probably wondering if he was being delusional and seeing ghosts.

Damn, I hope not.

A few steps closer to us, and she collapsed on the ground. Still conscious, sure, but definitely hurting. I wouldn't doubt that she had been in some sort of haze.

Kaidan went for her first, but I put out an arm. I was hurt the least out of the two of us. Anderson and the two Alliance boys were there, yeah, so why didn't I let them do it? I lifted her up and refused to give her to Anderson, who would probably have a better chance at carrying her than I would.

"I'll do it," I grunted.

Surprisingly, he let me pick her up.

"Wrex?" her voice croaked. I looked down at that battered body and felt a tinge of worry.

"Shepard?"

She put a hand up to my face and smiled once again. "We did it."

Her hand slid off, and she blacked out—myself feeling like I would do the same at any time (I resisted, however, because she needed to get on a damned hospital table ASAP). Her lost consciousness didn't bother me. If she was tough enough to survive that, she could make it back to the _Normandy_.

"Yeah," I answered quietly, looking up. "I guess we did."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **I hope I've succeeded in capturing Wrex's voice. I'm normally not a fan of first person POV, but it just seemed so fitting here. I always thought that Kaidan had the most heartbreaking expression when Anderson asks where Shepard is, but in one of my playthroughs I had Wrex in his place … boy, was I proven wrong. He looked so sad, guys. ;_;_

_Though this is a one-shot, I think I'll add another something-something for ME2 when Shepard visits on Tuchanka, if the feedback shows that I did well. Thanks for reading!_


	2. Sound

"You sure I can go?"

I knew the answer, as did she. Even if she said no, I'd still be able to leave. For some reason it felt better when I followed her orders, despite myself heading off (which meant I wasn't obliged to). When I told her about me having the chance to be a leader of my own clan—Clan _Urdnot—_her eyes lit up and she was in a jolly mood for looking so sad most of the time.

"_Clan leader_," she repeated for what seemed like the one-hundredth time today. "That's big stuff, Wrex."

"Yeah, so?"

Shepard crossed her arms and bobbed her head off to the side slightly. "Don't tell me that you'd rather stay on this stuffy ship with a crew that gets on your nerves more than a screaming pyjack ever would, a bossy commander, and deathly situations that leave us wounded and in mental pain."

"They don't annoy me all the time," was my only reply. I purposely left out the 'bossy commander' bit, just so I could make her laugh. I succeeded. She wasn't very demanding at all. Made smart choices; only time I ever doubted her was on Virmire. Fortunately she convinced me that blowing up the planet was the right choice.

But we don't really talk about Virmire very often.

The mental pain she mentioned was part of this; most of the crew got nightmares. I was one of the lucky ones, allegedly, seeing as I never dreamed anything to begin with. Not very often, anyway. Shepard, Alenko, the pilot, and the doctor got it the worst. Me, the quarian and Vakarian were just fine.

Her face was healing nicely; her old scars remained, but the newer cuts were fading away; the dark bruises were now a light yellow. Good as new, she told me the other day. Except not really, because she still had bandages around her arms and her torso, if I remembered correctly.

The deck was cold. Well, I liked it, and the commander didn't seem to care too much. Vakarian came from that hot planet, so that explained how he was practically hugging himself. Turians.

My observations were cut short when I heard Shepard sigh.

"We'll make it, don't worry. We're just going to be fighting geth for a little while, anyway. Tali always has a passion for killing geth." Her smile was off.

"I guess I should go, then," I rumbled. "I'm not one for long goodbyes." Fortunately, I didn't have much crap, but Shepard still walked me to the elevator (A.K.A. longest thing since my quad's brother), and then to the airlock. The ETA was only a few minutes to Illium. Damn shiny and perky planet, but I had business there before I took a public shuttle to Tuchanka.

Poor lass looked like she wanted to say something. She did not.

"Shepard," I said as a farewell.

She pecked the side of my face with her lips; that damned human gesture never seemed logical, but I knew that this was her friendly goodbye. Something important to her, and, well, to me as well. "Wrex," she answered, still smiling. If I allowed it, she probably would have gone off on a speech-run about how she hoped I did well, etc. etc.

I did not. Of course, I had already bid goodbyes to the other squad mates.

That smile was the last thing I saw when I left the _Normandy_. These idiots on Tuchanka better be worth it, I thought.

* * *

Wrong.

I did not like to be wrong, but there I was, basking in my wrong-ness.

I loved my clan (or the idea of everyone uniting under my command—_ha_!), I loved Tuchanka, but I hated anyone else here. I hated being talked to death by Gatatog Uvenk, or any other idiot that waltzed into my territory and criticized the way that I worked.

Deal with it, I wanted to say.

Unfortunately for him, most of the time I had been lost in thought about saying goodbye to Shepard and the rest of the crew. My commander would pulverize this krogan easily, if she wanted to. Not that she would, the damned paragon. I always told her to have a little more fun when it came to handling other beings. She dismissed my claims with air quotes.

"Halt! You must wait till the clan leader summons you. He is … in talks."

That's great, too. Another pathetic krogan here to bother me, I bet.

"You know what tradition demands—Clan Urdnot must respond," Uvenk went on. "Your reforms will not go unopposed. You risk appearing weak at a critical time."

I shifted in my stone throne and caught sight of the new visitor. _Three_ new visitors, I noticed. Three faces that I recognized. That turian had a bandage on the side of his face—serves him right—and had some different, new armor, but I knew that was Vakarian. The quarian … well, I couldn't really tell quarians apart, but she was dressed in purple, and that was all the confirmation that I needed.

Well, Shepard? Last I heard, she was dead. I tried not to think of it too much, but that's what the reports said. We didn't have much technology down here; all of our credits went to machinery, weaponry, and supplies to survive. Why need that crap rotting your brain? I didn't know the story, so maybe it had been fabricated.

Uvenk could wait.

"_Shepard_," I called loudly, standing up. Unbelievable. After more than two years of not seeing that damned woman, _there she was_.

She looked at one of my guards and smirked—hey, I remember that. "Good enough?"

I shoved Uvenk out of my way carelessly; she, being the polar opposite of me, simply brushed pass two guards with an "Excuse me." Figures.

"Shepard!" It was her. Hah. _Tough broad_, I thought once again. It was obvious that it was the commander when I practically ripped her arm out of her socket and she didn't even wince. My hand on her shoulder and our hands joined, I was greeted with the same smile I saw when I left. It was good to see she hadn't changed—minus the scar loss, I noted. "My friend!"

"Hey, Wrex."

"You look well for dead, Shepard. Should have known the void couldn't hold you."

* * *

She offered me a place back on the new _Normandy_. Her tone was kidding, because she _knew _I couldn't, but the words were sincere. Hard to resist, but I had myself a clan. Sadly enough, I was stuck for quite some time. Maybe one day I'd pass on my knowledge to some krogan that isn't incompetent. Ha. That'll be the day.

I gave her _new _pet krogan the Rite of Passage. Little runt did better than everyone expected, what with being genetically modified to be perfect. We all spit on Okeer's name, but the kid's got it in him.

He's not _me_, but he'll do good on the _Normandy_, I think.

When I watched the hidden videos of the Rite, I noticed that Shepard was doing most of it anyway. As she was the commander of the two mates, this was to be expected, but hell … I was the last person to take out the Thresher Maw. It's incredible that they could do it, too (even if that Grunt got all the credit for it), but then again—Shepard's all about the impossible. Not that Maws were all that hard to take down. Just time-consuming is all.

Upon their return, Shepard and I said goodbye once more. Maintaining professionalism, she simply gave a wave and headed back to the SR-2 _Normandy_. I had been told earlier that the tank-bread krogan received a hell of a lot of breeding requests after successfully completing the Rite.

A slow smirk appeared on my face. I wondered how Shepard would react if she had also gotten one. I forwarded all the requests (including Grunt's) to the ship's computer, and Shepard began talking to it as they wandered away. Their voices faded out, but …

Any second now. Three … two … one …

"_What_?" echoed Shepard's voice, high-pitched and utterly surprised.

Music to my ears.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **There ya have it! I almost—**almost—**debated making this Shepard/Wrex. However, I resisted. Maybe some day; and that day most likely wont be too far away. Thanks!_


End file.
